暖冬cool夏
这里一年四季温暖如春，没有酷暑没有严寒......
Driving locally on the early Saturday morning heading towards the lab for the annual blood examine, I saw leaflets, small and brownish, swirling in the air. How come the leaves are falling in the spring time? Perplexed, I peered through the window when the car was stopped at the red light. When it dawned on me that they were the butterflies, I couldn’t help wondering at the rare sight, where swarming butterflies flying by hundreds in the midair across the street.
The line at the lab was way too long and moved at a snail pace. After waiting for about 15 minutes, I decided not to waste my Saturday morning time there. I have better places to go, I told myself.
The sun was beaming down relentlessly upon the valley. The temperature was around 70-80 F. Warm wind rustled over the trees and the grass. The valley was in its green, with blooming flowers, purple, yellow and orange studded or clustered here and there. In the distance, the snow-crested mountain tops were basking in the sun, reminding us that winter is still within sight.
He and I hiked in the trail, immersing ourselves in the valley beauty. Reaching the top, we greedily took in the view, knowing that this kind of scenery is never ever-lasting. Soon the flowers will be withering, grass dying and the lush green fleetingly giving way to deadly scene of drought. We did not hike far, as the heat and dry wind deterred us. On the way back, we were both reminiscent of the old days when the team hiked on the same trail but extended our footprint to the other side of the mountain, to the beach, a round-trip of more than ten miles. Gone are the days when the enthusiasm could carry us far and wild, when the laughter and fun are only to miss.
By the time we were about to find our parked car, we saw patches of yellow flowers on the loop and decided to take a final look. Surprisingly, we caught sight of butterflies, many of them, sucking at the blooming flowers. They must be the ones I saw on the early morning street. The fluttering butterflies prompted him to take out his big camera to capture the colorful patterns, and our later online research proved that they are Painted Lady butterflies migrating by millions from Mexico to Pacific Northwest. It is the unprecedented super bloom that makes them stop by the once-barren land.
蝴蝶拍得漂亮，有水平！
Indeed I am for the past 20 years and there's no end in sight :-(
Let there be butterflies!
painted lady的中文好像是苎胥。
春天来了，让我们拥抱大自然，享受生命，快乐每一天！